turned over sluggishly when he pressed the
starter button, as if the battery were almost dead. Now it lugged
heavily, even when going downhill.

"The whole thing's haywire," Ken said irritably. "It acts like the
crankcase is full of sand or something."

"Let me walk the rest of the way," said Maria. "You take the car back,
and I'll bring the stamps over on my way to school in the morning."

"No, we're almost there. Nothing much more could go wrong than already
has."

When they reached Maria's place they found Professor and Mrs. Larsen
sitting on the porch.

"We've been watching the comet," Maria said excitedly. "Ken let me look
at it through his telescope."

"A remarkable event," said Professor Larsen. "I feel very fortunate to
be alive to witness it. My generation hasn't had this kind of privilege
before. I was a child when Halley's comet appeared."

"I've been trying to tell Maria what a lucky break this is, but she
agrees with Granny Wicks," said Ken.

"Oh, I do not!" Maria snapped.

"Granny Wicks?" Professor Larsen inquired. "Your grandmother?"

"No." Ken tried to cover the professor's lack of familiarity with
American idioms. "She's just the town's oldest citizen. Everybody likes
her and calls her Granny, but her mind belongs to the Middle Ages."

"You hear that, Papa?" cried Maria. "Her mind belongs to the Middle
Ages, and he says I'm like Granny Wicks!"

Maria's mother laughed gently. "I'm sure Ken didn't mean your mind is of
the Middle Ages, too, dear."

Ken flushed. "Of course not. What I mean is that Granny Wicks thinks the
comet is something mysterious and full of omens, and Maria says she sort
of thinks the same about it."

"I didn't say anything about omens and signs!"

"Well, except for that...."

"Except for that, I suppose we are all in agreement," said Professor
Larsen slowly. He drew on his pipe and it glowed brightly in the
darkness. "The whole universe is a terrible place that barely tolerates
living organisms. Almost without exception it is filled with great suns
that are flaming, atomic furnaces, or dead cinders of planets to which a
scrap of poisonous atmosphere may cling. Yes, it is indeed a great
miracle that here in this corner of the universe conditions exist where
living things have found a foothold. We may be glad that this is so, but
it does not pay man to ever forget the fierceness of the home in which
he lives. Earth is merely one room of that home, on the pleasant, s